I messed up again.
It had barely been a few minutes since I tried walking like a normal person — not like a zombie — and I was already mortified. Again. In heels. In front of Aarav. At the Royal Rylan Gala, of all places. I don't know why, but ever since I got here, I've been doing only one job: losing Aura.
This wasn't some school fair. Not a friendly backyard dance. This was the kind of place where people were born knowing how to glide across marble floors and sip wine without spilling a drop — unlike me. People here probably practiced their smiles in the mirror until they looked expensive enough to pass down through generations.
I'm pretty sure my ancestors didn't laugh.
And me?
I slipped during a slow dance and grabbed my classmate's coat like a panicked hippopotamus. Graceful, right?
Thankfully, Aarav caught me. Again. Of course, he did. The moment was... something. His hands around me. My face inches from his. But then he cracked a joke, and I laughed, and the spell broke — just like that. I know he's weird.
We danced a little longer — awkward and clumsy — stepping on each other like toddlers playing grown-up. It was sweet. It was nice. But it wasn't magic.
Then came the random partner round.
The music changed.
The ballroom lights dimmed to a deeper violet.
Everyone was asked to switch partners to their left every time the beat changed.
So I danced.
With a tall man who smelled like a bookcase and wore gloves like he invented paper.
Then with a nerdy boy who grinned and said, "Just go with the rhythm, darling."
Really? Darling?!?!
Then someone else. And someone else again.
None of them were particularly memorable — until he came.
I didn't see him approach. He just appeared in front of me when the lights shifted again, as if the music itself had summoned him. Like a ninja.
He was tall. Dressed in black from head to toe — midnight black suit, raven-black gloves, and a mask that shimmered like shadows under moonlight. His hair was slightly messy but elegant, like it defied perfection on purpose.
He didn't say a word. No "darling" or "honey." Just... silence.
He pulled me into the dance like we'd done this before — like this was the fifth act of a well-rehearsed play and I was the only one who didn't know the choreography.
I know I'm dumb.
He moved gracefully — smooth turns, gentle dips, perfect posture.
I tried to follow.
And failed.
Halfway through a spin, my heel betrayed me. Again. I lost balance, panic flashing through my chest. Why?! Of course, I didn't take coaching to learn how to walk in heels.
But before I could even gasp — he caught me. One arm around my waist, one hand gripping mine — firm but gentle.
And just like with Aarav… we were close.
Too close.
Chest to chest. My breath caught in my throat.
His mask was only inches from mine. His eyes — sharp and dark — were unreadable. No flirtation. No laughter. Just… stillness. Calm.
The moment felt heavy — even I'm heavy — but not in a romantic way. Not butterflies. It felt like being watched by the moon — distant, quiet, and oddly safe.
"I… I'm so sorry," I whispered.
"Nah, it's okay."
He nodded slightly. Then gently lifted me back into rhythm.
Then partner change. And just like that, the round ended.
I turned to find someone else — but he was already gone.
Just like that. Everyone was missing. Should I paste posters?? My toes and ankles were killing me thanks to those stupid heels and this massive venue.
Now I'm just roaming around.
Wait… I just found a gaming area. Wow. In a royal party.
But the game needs a partner. And I don't have one. I didn't even understand how I got here. So... food corner it is.
But suddenly — someone grabbed my arm.
"We need to win."
"Huhhh?"
I turned like one of those cartoon characters who hears a spooky sound behind them. And there he was. That boy in black again, the one who danced with me. Still saying very little.
And what did I do?
I blinked. Then blinked again. My brain went soap-bubble blank.
"Me?" I squeaked. "Win what? Where are we?"
He released me. "Yes, we. We're going to play that game and win." He lowered his head to say this. Yeah… because of my height.
He took off one of his silver chains — perfectly matching his black outfit — and handed it to me. Then walked ahead.
Just… wow.
"Hey! Wait!!!" I had no option left but to follow him. Because apparently my personality is "go with chaos."
The game setup looked like a glowing clock, but instead of numbers, it had targets popping up in random places. Each target lit up for maybe one and a half seconds (okay I didn't count, but it felt like that, okay?!), then disappeared.
There were two platforms: one for the Shooter, and one for the Loader.
He stepped into the Shooter spot like it was built for him. Of course. So me? I waddled into the Loader spot — which sounded like an insult, but whatever.
My job?
Pick up little arrows from a silver tray and hand them to him. Fast.
That's it. Sounds easy, right?
HAAAHAHAHAHA. No.
FIRST ROUND:
The buzzer beeped.
I screamed a little. Inside my mouth.
The first target lit up.
I panicked.
I handed him the wrong side of the arrow.
He looked at me for exactly half a second. I swear I saw his mask squint.
Still shot. Still hit the target.
Cool.
SECOND ROUND:
I tried again. Fumbled the arrow. Almost dropped it.
"Oopsie."
I handed it anyway.
He shot. Barely made it.
Third round. Fourth. Fifth. I got worse.
Sweat. Panic. Nervous giggles. My gloves felt like oven mitts. My fingers were now noodles.
Then it happened.
The sixth target came up.
I dropped the arrow.
"Focus!" he barked. Just once. Like thunder cracking through fog.
I FROZE.
Eyes wide. Hands up. Heart? Boom boom BOOM.
But it worked.
Suddenly, my brain screamed: GO GO GO
MISSION: LOAD ARROW. GIVE ARROW. YES. GO.
My hands snapped into place like I was in an action movie. I handed it fast. He shot. Bullseye.
SEVENTH ROUND:
Me: Focused.
Gloves: Sweaty.
Arrow: In hand. Tight grip.
I started whispering under my breath: "Loader Queen. That's me. Let's go. Zoom zoom."
Eighth target? HIT.
Ninth? DOUBLE HIT.
By the tenth round, we were on fire. Okay, not real fire, but you know — dance-in-the-rain, cereal-at-midnight, found-a-puppy kind of fire.
He held out his hand. No words.
I slammed the arrow into his palm like, "HERE, SIR."
Boom. Target gone.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Final round.
Final target.
The buzzer paused like a heartbeat. I didn't breathe. I gave him the last arrow. He aimed like time itself stopped for him.
Shot.
Ding. All targets cleared. Eleven seconds. Fastest time.
There was a beat of silence.
And then—!
"WE WON!!!" I squealed, jumping like a popcorn kernel in a hot pan. I did a spin. Okay, no — I did a wobble-spin that almost turned into a trip. But I recovered. Like a champ.
I looked at him — that boy in black. Mask shining.
He was laughing — or maybe smiling — watching me jump. And I don't know what came over me.
Maybe it was the victory. Maybe it was the sugar from that tiny macaron I had earlier. But I hugged him.
No warning. I just— launched myself.
My arms went around him like:
"HELLO I'M A KOALA."
He stiffened for half a second. Probably shocked that a chaotic toddler in heels just hugged him like a puppy greeting its owner.
But then—
His arms wrapped back. Carefully. One hand on my back. Not too tight. Not awkward.
Like… like he needed a hug.
And for a second, I forgot I was in a palace. I forgot about falling on my face earlier. I forgot that my heel still hurt and I was probably glowing like a traffic light.
Because in that one weird second… we were just two strangers who won a silly game.
And it was enough.
Until—
My mask slipped.
"Wait—NO—!" I yelped.
I bent down to grab it, but his hand beat mine. He picked it up. Slowly. Then stepped in front of me. Without speaking, he raised it to my face.
Gently.
His fingers brushed my cheeks as he tied the ribbon back. Not too tight. Not too loose. I just stood there — frozen. Not in fear. Just… still. Like a little kid getting her hair fixed.
No one ever cared for me like that before. Not in Germany. Never. When I came to India, I found so many sweet people — everywhere.
Then I heard the voice.
"Ara." Liza.
I turned. She was waiting — arms crossed, her expression somewhere between "I've been searching for you for ten years" and "Who. Is. That."
I looked back at the masked boy. He stepped away.
I ran toward Liza, then turned to wave.
"Bye, mister!"
"Bye!" he smiled — or laughed — and waved back.
His smile... it was something else. Familiar. Comfortable. No awkwardness at all.
"You really found that game zone here? Wow," Liza said suddenly.
"Ohh… yeah… By the way, where are we going now?"
"To the main event, dumb."
"Main event?"
"I think you don't know, but Dad was personally invited to this party. That's why we need to be there. A major business deal has been finalized between the Rylans and the Arisons. That's the main reason this party's happening," she explained.
"Ohhh… I didn't know that!"
"We're almost there…"
Okay. So now I've entered a VIP Lounge. I guess that's Mr. Rylan on stage... giving a speech.
I didn't even understand that business and expensive language so I'm just drinking juice.
The speech finally ended. Thank God.
And I was officially done pretending to enjoy tiny desserts that taste like fancy air.
People clapped. People smiled. I smiled too — mostly out of muscle memory and mild confusion.
I was just chewing my food when I saw Aarav, with his family, I guess… why am I always guessing? Whatever. Leave him.
Then I noticed Aunt and Uncle talking to someone in an intimidatingly crisp grey suit—the kind of man who looked like the CEO of something I'd never understand.
"Ohhh! My goodness, Rian! You've really glowed up over the years! And your daughter—she's married now!" Uncle said, beaming. Formal voice: not activated.
The man chuckled. "Yeah, and I see your kids are all grown up too!"
They both smiled like old schoolmates meeting after decades—nostalgia practically bouncing between them.
Then the man pointed at me. "Who's that cute girl with Liza?"
"Oh—sorry for the late introduction," Aunt said. "She's Ara, my sister's daughter. She used to live in Germany."
"You mean… Aria's daughter?" His eyes widened. He looked genuinely stunned.
Wait—he knows my mom?
Before I could ask anything, the three of them wandered off to talk privately.
Anyway, the party was decent. Not bad for my first royal gala.
Cool.
We got home not long after. I ripped off my heels like they were medieval torture devices and stuffed the gown into the darkest corner of my closet. Honestly, it deserved it.
And just like that, the gala was over.
No more glitter.
No more small talk and speeches.
Just food, pajamas, and a weird, sparkly headache.